Old Pains - A Dresden Files Fanfiction
by Snooglebum Exists
Summary: Vigor Springs, Iowa. A small town hiding dangerous and powerful secrets. It falls upon Emily Grace, Warden of the White Council to unveil the mysteries surrounding Vigor Springs... and discover what makes the town so special.
1. Prologue

_Note: "pissed" is British slang for "drunk"._

_Warning: HUGE spoilers for Changes_

Sometimes, being a wizard is bloody annoying.

And I probably just jumped ahead way too much there. Let me back up the exposition truck a bit.

The things that go bump in the night are real, and lots of them don't have much trouble with daylight, either. Wizards, vampires, werewolves- they're all real. Hell, one of them might be your neighbor.

Wizards, as a whole, are a fickle lot. We're disputatious to a fault, dangerous if unchecked, and the worst of us have almost destroyed civilization a couple of times. That's why the White Council exists, and why I'm part of it. We make sure that no two-penny sorcerers summon up demons, or other things they can't control, and I've heard the Merlin dances on tiptoes to make sure every single supernatural thing out there doesn't eat us.

Notice how I keep saying "us". I should have mentioned:

My name is Emily Grace, and I'm a Warden. We keep the peace. Or did, when there were more of us.

I had been travelling from London to South Africa via the Nevernever, realm of the faerie, but I had gotten intercepted on the way by a Red Court ambush. I was heavily outnumbered, and I barely got out alive. And just when I had gotten away from then, I got ambushed again by Wyldfae, and had to run from them, too. When I finally made it out of the Nevernever, I arrived in a broom closet. In a train station. In Iowa. And I had somehow lost a week. Needless to say, I was slightly horrified.

Which is why I went out on the piss to the Rusty Screw. Which is how I met Hector. Which is how I saw the summoning, discovered the Wellspring, and met the Coricanth. It's how a lot of things happened.

But I'm getting ahead of myself again, let me start at the beginning.


	2. Chapter 1

_Emily Grace is obviously British, and uses a lot of British slang. If I made any sort of mistake on that front, feel free to correct me. I'm also a new writer, so please excuse any roughness, this is all new to me. :]_

The first thing I did when I discovered that a week had somehow passed was to run to the nearest Warden safehouse. I had popped out of fairyland in a little town called Vigor Springs, which had a safehouse conveniently located nearby. I don't know if you knew this, but safehouses in general aren't known for their hospitality. The safehouse happened to be an abandoned bomb shelter underneath a similarly abandoned warehouse. What little amenities there were included a pair of beds, a healthy stock of canned goods, some basic medical supplies and an ancient phone.

I eventually used the phone to get through to the Warden HQ in Edinburgh, which is how I heard the big news.

"Harry Dresden killed the entire Red Court? And then died?"

"I know. I couldn't believe it myself when I heard it." came the voice over the line. Tabitha Knots, an old friend of mine, had picked up, and after we had exchanged the necessary passphrases, she had told me the news.

I sat down next to the phone, dumbstruck. I was there for the clusterfuck at Camp Kaboom, so I had talked to Dresden a couple of times. All I knew was that he seemed like a decent guy, and he was shit at playing guitar.

This was big news. Ever since Harry Dresden had crashed a Red Court party and killed a bunch of the vamps there, the White Council (and by extension, the Wardens) had been at war with the vampires. And it had _not _been going well for us. After a couple of masterful coups from the Red Court, the Wardens had been devastated, and there had barely been any left to fight. We had slowly begun to turn the tide, but things were looking ugly. But appearantly, Dresden had waltzed into a Red Court stronghold, done something, and killed every single Red Court vampire alive. Fucking hell.

"So that's it, then?" I said, "The war's over?"

"I guess" came the reply. "I don't know, everything's a mess right now. Apparently the Council is still trying to sort through what happened."

"Bloody hell", I said, shaking my head, which was stupid, considering that Tabitha couldn't see me. "So what now?"

"Commander Luccio ordered everybody to return to their regular postings and await further orders for now, so right now... nothing I guess. You might want to come back to London."

"'l'll do that, then," I said. "First though, I need to go get pissed. This is way too bloody much to take in at once."

"I hear that," said Tabitha, sounding amused. "You realize you're going to catch hell from Luccio if she finds out, right?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I'll deal with it."

"Good luck with that, then. Travel safe, alright? I heard that the Ways are a lot more stable now, so you should have an easier go at things."

"Thank God for that, at least." I said. I really didn't need another week gone. Keep well, Tabby."

"You too, Em." She hung up.

I should have been happy the war was over. It cost so many lives, and now it was wrapped up by our very own Dresden with a bow. But it ended so quickly. Too quickly. I couldn't help but feel a distinct unease. Nothing in life is ever that easy.

I left the safehouse, and headed into town. I considered bringing my array of magical foci with me, but decided against it; what evil could really lurk in a small town like this?

Boy, if I knew then what I know now.

Vigor Springs was a nice little place. Certainly nicer than the shitty East End borough I grew up in. People were actually saying hello to me, rather than knocking me over and stealing my money.

I had an interesting childhood.

By the time I had left the safehouse, it was getting on towards night. The sun had already declared "fuck this", and was setting spitefully, preparing for its eventual return. I had found a little pub called the Rusty Screw down a backroad, and had been drinking there for a while. It was actually an ok place, if you ignore the horrible name.

Night had fallen, and I had already had a couple of mugs of weak American brew when a man approached me.

"Hi there, you look new around here. What brings you to Iowa?"

I peered up at the the man suspiciously. After mulling over the news of the Red Court's demise, I had decided I was in a foul mood.

"If yer lookin' for a shag, mate, you ain't getting one, I'm as queer as a nine bob note."

I enjoy confusing yanks with British slang. It's one of those little things, you know? the man for his part looked confused for a moment, but seemed to catch on.

"Oh, I get it. If you mean you're gay, I know a couple of ladies I could hook you up with." he gave me a conspiratorial smile and waggled his eyebrows.

I blinked a couple of times in surprise. That had not been the expected reply.

"Er," I said, wondering exactly how to come back to that. "Thanks I guess. But... no thanks? I'm not really in Iowa looking for love."

He grinned. "Not many people are." he said. "But anyway, I'm being rude. My name's Hector." He offered his hand to shake.

I eyed it warily for a second, then shook. "Emily", I said cautiously. "So I guess yer not lookin' for a shag, then?"

"Nah, I'm also as queer as a, uh... what did you say?"

"Nine-bob note?"

"Yeah, that. Mind if I sit down?"

I shrugged indifferently.

"Thanks," he said, which struck me as odd. In fact, everything about him was striking me as odd. I took a closer look at him. He was about an inch shorter than me, with wiry brown hair. He wore a pair of half glasses, and had a sort of conspiratorial air about his expression, like he was sharing a secret with me.

"So," he said, "if you're not in Iowa looking for love, why are you in Iowa?"

"Why do you care?" I said moodily.

"I like meeting new people," he said cheerfully, seemingly unperturbed by my rudeness. "Plus, you looked interesting."

I stared at him for a second, trying to decide whether to brush him off or not, and finally said "I'm just travelling. I stopped here for a bit."

"Aaah, I see. Where are you headed?"

"Well," I said, debating what to tell him, "my... job relocated me to Chicago, so I left California, only to discover that the reason that I had left the bloody state had up and died." Maybe that was too much information? In my defense, I was sloshed.

"Yikes." he said. "What's your job?"

I hesitated again, trying to decide what to say. "I'm a police officer," I said, which was sort of true. I didn't mention I was a Warden, naturally. "I got relocated to Chicago." I crossed my mental fingers that he didn't know that much about police forces.

"Wow. Does that sort of thing happen a lot?"

"Nah," I said, waving my pint expressively. "Not really." Which was also true, sort of. Until the war started, Wardens didn't change location much.

He pressed for more details, which I provided. My answers were complete bollocks, of course, invented in a drunken stupor, but he seemed to buy it. During the course of our conversation, I learned a couple of things about Hector. One was that he was the bass player in a local band called the Sons of Earwigs, and his full name was Hector Hinton Hanks. The other was that he was... well, 'eccentric' is the only way I could put it.

"You own a flying squirrel?" I said, dumbfounded.

"Yup! Her name is Dorothy."

You meet the oddest people in pubs.

Hector ended up having to basically carry me out of the Rusty Screw. It was closing time, and we had been the last customers there before we were gently pushed out by the proprietor. Hector had only had half a glass of ale, where I had ended up eventually ordering everything they had on tap. Or that's what I gather, at least. My memory of exactly what I consumed that night is a little hazy, I just remember the quantity. Hector was listening to a rambling story I was telling about a parakeet, a matchstick, and a rubber hose.

As we were walking out from the pub, an old, beat-up pickup truck drove in through an alley and parked near us. The door opened, two men and a woman got out, and I immediately knew something was wrong.

It was the woman that set me off. She was unbelievably attractive, with full lips, full hips, and full... well, everything. Her hair was a black so dark it was almost blue, and she wore a glittering necklace that drew attention to her generous chest. She was beautiful. Supernaturally beautiful.

Bloody hell, I thought. White Court.

The White Court are vampires, but instead of sucking blood, they feed on emotions. Most specifically, emotions of arousal and lust. The demon that lived inside them made them into everybody's sexual fantasies... but the reality of them was a nightmare. I'd seen the results of their work firsthand.

Hell, I'd experienced the results of their work firsthand. But that's a sad story, fit for another day.

The story I was relaying to Hector trailed off as we passed them. They all shot me appraising looks, and I had to mentally push away a bit of psychic come-hither from them, but it was clear they were focused on the pub and not me. I had to fight the impulse to zap them then and there, but even through the haze of all the booze I had, I still knew it was a bad idea. White Court are much faster than the average human, and I needed to get some distance between us if I wanted a chance at hitting them. I waited until we were around the corner of a building, and told Hector that I had "forgotten something in the bleedin' pub," and told him to go on without me. I turned back.

The White Court cacks were maybe seventy, eighty feet from me. I couldn't hear their conversation, but it seemed like they were trying to figure out a way to get into the pub without breaking anything. One of them looked over his shoulder, obviously checking for any observers, and I ducked behind the alley wall. After a few seconds, I chanced a look back at the pub. It didn't look like any of them had seen me. One of them was talking on a cell phone, but his body language told me he was unconcerned. I slowly crept down the alley, and hid behind a dumpster. I was getting ready to move closer, but I froze when I felt a ripple of magical energy in front of me, near the vampires. I chanced another look.

I looked just in time to see a shadowy figure had opened a Way through the Nevernever into Vigor Springs. When I say 'shadowy', I mean it. Even though he was standing right next to a streetlight, the figure was shrouded in darkness, as though there was no ambient light at all. It was bizarre. More bizarre still was that as soon as he emerged, the three vampires all kneeled in front of him, and bowed their heads. Interesting.

He said something to them, and they all arose. One of them pulled out a set of lockpicks, and began to work on the door. I extended my wizardly sense towards the shadowed figure, and nearly gasped as I did so. He was powerful, terrifyingly so. He positively exuded a greasy, writing power. Suddenly, staying behind that dumpster seemed like a really good idea.

Within the space of half a minute, the White Court vampire with the lockpicks had opened the door, which Mr. Shadow entered. I caught a glimpse of the proprietor in front of Mr. Shadow. I couldn't tell for sure from that distance, but I was pretty sure he looked terrified.

I bit my lip. This was very, very bad. If I tried to take on the dark wizard myself, drunk as I was and with no backup, I'd probably die. Maybe if I wasn't so inebriated, I'd have a chance, but as things stood the best idea was to run to the safehouse and contact Tabitha. Pass the word up.

That was the plan until I heard a voice behind me say "Emily? What are you doing?"

Hector had come back. I whipped my head towards him and said in a furious whisper "Hector. Shut the fuck up. Now."

He looked confused and a little scared, and I peered around the dumpster.

And that's when things went straight to hell, cause one of the vampires had heard Hector, and faster than any human could move, was charging towards us.

"Oh fuck me!" I shouted, slightly panicked, and went for my gun.

Now, I'm normally a damn good marksman (or markswoman, I guess) if I say so myself. But with the vampire charging towards me at breakneck speed, I, uh, sort of forgot to aim. As I mentioned before, I was drunk as multiple skunks, so my accuracy was absolutely fucked, and I didn't have the presence of mind to do anything else other than blind panic fire, and hope that I would eventually connect. Against the White Court, that's a very, very bad move.

So I drew my Colt 1917, and immediately emptied all six shots in the general direction of the charging vampire. One of them hit him in the chest, and ripped a small section open like rotten meat. The vampire howled in agony, but it was obvious I hadn't hit anything vital. I could tell, because the fact that he was still charging at me was kind of a tip-off. Before I had time to do anything else, the vampire had full body tackled me, and brought me to the ground. As I went down, I bumped my head on the pavement roughly, making a lancing pain tear through my head, and putting little dancing stars in front of my eyes. I dropped my gun next to me.

"You will regret meddling in our affairs, mortal." snarled the vampire as he raised his fist to bash my skull in. I stared into his eyes.

And that's when the Soulgaze started.

You know what people say about the eyes being windows to the soul? Well, for wizards, it's completely and totally true. If a wizard looks into somebody's eyes for too long, they start something called a soulgaze. Both the participants stare into each other's souls, and get a good hard look at them.

Everybody sees souls differently. I'm a mechanic. I love building things, repairing things, you name it. So it only makes sense that I see souls as complex mechanisms.

The vampires soul was, ironically, quite soulless. It was a thing of twisting gears and polished, gleaming white metal. I was inexorably drawn towards the center of the mechanism, where blades and needles surrounded a single object: a large vial, full of blood. I was seeing the vampires hunger, his need for energy. The lust they provoked was simply a means to an end. The White Court really isn't that different from the other courts: even if they don't drink blood, they still extract the essence of their victims. They still steal life, and they still steal everything from a person.

The thing about a Soulgaze is that it goes both ways. So while I got a good like at what the vampire was like inside his twisted heart, he saw what was in mine.

And whatever was inside terrified him.

As we both snapped back to reality, I saw the vampire's expression quickly change from self-satisfied anger to absolute terror.

"Warden." he whispered.

"Yup," I said. I grabbed his neck with one hand, and drew as much power into myself as I could.

He somehow sensed what I was about to do, and tried to pull away.

"Wait," he said, panicked. "Don't-"

And that's when I yelled "Lóstrego!", and released all my gathered energy in the form of electricity.

Now, I'm a very powerful wizard, probably ranking among the top twenty wizards alive. But my control is absolute shit. I have to work through carefully prepared foci or risk exhausting myself with a single spell.

Which is what I did just then, as I zapped the vampire with twenty-thousand volts of electricity.

The effect was immediate and violent. His body arced and spasmed violently, and his flesh charred like meat on a barbecue. I just barely had the presence of mind to reach out my other arm and sent the remaining voltage arcing into the nearby dumpster, which exploded in a shower of sparks. If I hadn't grounded myself like that, I would have been cooked as well, along with Hector behind me.

My body trembled and ached as I pumped electricity into him, and I just barely managed to stop before I blacked out. He collapsed onto me, and I pushed his unmoving body off of me, and stood up, trying not to fall over. I nudged his body with my foot, and it didn't move. Good enough for me. White Court are tough, but not tough enough to survive enough current to kill a normal human more than five times over.

I hoped.

"Well," I said, trying not to fall over, throw up, or both, "that's that sorted."

I looked up at the remaining vampires. They had been advancing at a slower pace, and were maybe fifteen or twenty feet in front of me. Their eyes were wide, and they looked awestruck and terrified by what they had just witnessed. I was in a bad situation, even if the vampires didn't know it. If they realized I was about spent from that last spell, I was dead. So, I thought to myself, time to bluff like mad.

I raised my revolver, and pushed a tiny trickle of power through it to make the barrel dance with small sparks. I looked at the vampires, absolute murder in my eyes, and said in a growl:

"Come and get me, you fucking vampire twats."

The bluff worked, because they scampered like rabbits.

I waited till I was sure they were good and gone. Then I collapsed to the ground.

I was dimly aware of Hector crouching next to me and speaking in a voice filled with shock and horror.

"Emily! Emily, are you alright? What they hell just happened? Who were those people? _What_ were those people?"

"Hnnnngh," I said, facedown on the pavement. I turned my head so I could speak properly. I had a pounding headache. "Hector, yer way too bloody loud."

"I'm sorry, I just don't... I just- I don't..." I realized he was on the verge of hysteria.

"Calm yer tits", I said, "help me up. I'll explain everythin' later."

"O-okay," he said, and helped me rise to my feet without falling over.

"Ugh, I feel like I could sleep for a god-damned week." I said. I then lurched away suddenly, dropped to my hands and knees, and was violently sick all over the pavement.

"Gah! Jesus!" yelled Hector, jumping away from me.

"Sorry," I muttered weakly, "had too much to drink, I think." I fell over again. "Augh. Help, please." I slurred.

Hector helped me up again. "I... don't understand what just happened," he said, frightened. "That man charged at you... he was so fast, and then you shot him, and then you... I don't know what you did."

"Tits. Calm. Like I said, I'll explain everythin' later."

Then I froze. Mr. Shadow had emerged from the pub, and was staring straight at us.

"Oh fuck." I said.


	3. Chapter 2

Right as I was bracing myself for oblivion, Mr. Shadow did the last thing I would have expected.

He smiled.

Which is creepier then it sounds, because he was still shrouded in inky black darkness; nothing of him was visible... except his teeth, bared in a sharklike grin recognizable even from the distance we were at.

Like I said, creepy.

Then, without blasting us into smithereens, he waved his hand and opened a portal into the Nevernever and stepped through.

"Well," I said, as the portal closed behind him, "that was interestin'."

"What just happened?" asked Hector quietly.

"We didn't die, is was just happened." I said, shaking from exhaustion and nerves. "Bloody hell."

"So, uh..." I looked to my left, Hector was looking at me, still in shock. "You're... not a police officer, are you?"

"Sure I am," I said, "I just aint' policin' the worl' you know. Police are gonna be here soon, I gotta get movin'." I picked up my gun, and started tottering towards the Rusty Screw as fast as my trembling legs could take me.

"But... wait! You just killed someone!"

I turned my head towards him mid-totter. "You saw ow' fast the bugger moved, and y' still think es' human? Nah, e' was a vamp."

"Vamp? Vampire? But... there's no such thing!"

"Sure, and I just toasted the Easter Bunny. Think about it, mate." I ejected the spent shells from my gun and started loading in new ones. It took me a second to remember which pocket I had them in.

"Right, what did you do to him, anyway? You yelled something, and then lightning hit him!"

"Weren't lightning, mate, that was magic."

"Magic? But-"

"There's no such thing, I know." I said, cutting him off, as I approached the pub door. "Now hush up."

The lights had turned off (or been blown out more likely, Mr. Shadow had been a powerful practitioner, and magic doesn't get along with technology). I pulled out a tiny, ancient flashlight I kept on my belt, old enough that it kept working even through magical burst.

"There's a light switch on the wall" said Hector, his voice hushed. Once I had swept the room with the flashlight and gun, I walked over to the light switch and flipped it. The lights came on.

"Oh fuck me." I said quietly.

The bartender had been a big, chunky man named Mike. Had. In the center of the room, inside a circle drawn in chalk on the floor, was what was left of Mike. He had been vivisected, and his organs were strewn across the inside of the circle. No, scratch that, they were arranged inside the circle, at disturbingly regular intervals. Blood was everywhere, but I realized that the gradually spreading pool radiating out from the corpse was being contained inside the circle. A faint red light was permeating the room.

Trying not to throw up (again), I extended my wizard senses towards the circle. An awful, greasy aura wormed its way around the circle, slowly growing in power.

This was a summoning circle. And whatever it was summoning was about to come through.

There was a palpable feeling of separation, and a sound that made fingernails on a chalkboard pleasant by comparison ripped through my ears.

"Oh fuck me!" I yelled. I didn't have the time to counter the summoning, and I had left my enchantment-destroying sword at the safehouse. And I certainly didn't have the energy to fight whatever was coming through. So as fast as my shaking legs could move me, I ran the hell away. I grabbed Hector, who had just finished throwing up at the sight of Mike's body, and we skedaddled at the speed of light, down the alleyway that the vampire had been fried in.

Halfway down the alleyway, I turned my head to look at the Rusty Screw, just in time to see it explode with a burst of blinding red light. Debris from the explosion went everywhere, and I'm fairly sure that I would have been decapitated then and there if the shockwave from the blast hadn't sent me and Hector stumbling. We recovered, and ran to the end of the alley. I turned to look behind us, and saw something streak off into the sky, screaming all the way.

"What was that?" asked Hector numbly.

"I've no bloody clue," I said, watching the thing disappear into the night, "but you bet yer' arse I'm gonna find out."

I scampered before the police arrived. I could probably explain away the pub exploding as some sort of terrorist attack or something, but the charred corpse would take a bit more explaining. I slept in the safehouse.

Before I fell asleep, I muzzly pondered a couple of things. Who the hell was Mr. Shadow, and why hadn't he toasted me? From what he did to the poor bartender, its obvious he wouldn't have any scruples about blowing me into tiny little Emily Grace-sized pieces. And what in the everliving fuck had he summoned? Curiouser and curiouser.

When I woke up, there was a note next to the bed.

I stared at it. Its presence was impossible for a number of reasons. First of all was that before I went to bed, I had activated the wards surrounding the safe house, and anything that had forced its way through them would have made enough noise to wake a nation. Second of all is that someone would have had to walk in and placed it next to my head, and I'm a light sleeper. Third of all is that I was having trouble believing that somebody would sneak into the safehouse and up to me, only to leave a note.

I'd been a Warden for a while, so I reached out my hand towards it, and scanned it for magical booby traps. Nothing. It was just a note. Well, I thought, might as well read it.

_Dear Warden Grace_

_At your earliest convenience, I would appreciate it if we could conduct a meeting at my place of residence, at 34 Little Turnstille here in Vigor Springs. I have a certain piece of information that I feel would benefit both of us if I were to share it. I give you my word of safe passage, and promise that I will cause no harm to you, both directly and indirectly. I hope to see you soon._

_Sincerely yours_

_The Coricanth_

_P.S. I would recommend taking this letter with you, it will be necessary for our meeting._

I flipped the letter over. On the other side was a strange glyph that I didn't recognize.

That name sounded familiar, I realized. My old master, Edward Porter, had mentioned it a couple of times. From what I remembered, the Coricanth was a spirit of intellect, created by a wizard long dead to serve as a sort of mobile library. When the wizard had died, the Coricanth had disappeared, to do... something. Nobody really knew what.

I guess I knew the reason now: to leave weird notes next to people's beds.

I debated taking up the Coricanth's offer. I was totally in the dark as to what the hell had happened yesterday, and I needed information. Plus, it had given me its word of safe passage, which in the supernatural community, is almost always binding. The key word there is "almost".

But first, I had a promise to keep. And I keep my promises. I slipped the letter into my pocket, and departed the safehouse.

I met Hector in the small recording studio that the Songs of Earwigs used to practice. I had swept the room for veils beforehand, and had brought all of my magical foci. I had let my guard down after the news of the Red Court's demise, and I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. Me and Hector were sitting cross legged across from each other. There was an empty can of Coke next to him, which I took note of. It would be a useful demonstration piece.

"So," I asked Hector, "what do ya wanna know? Cause I'll be honest mate, some a' the stuff I know would getcha killed"

Hector gulped and bit his lip. "How about you stick with the stuff that won't get me killed, then?" he said.

I chuckled. "Fair enough. So, the firs' thing you gotta accept is that magic is real." It looked like he was about to say something, but I held up my hand. This served two purposes. The first was to cut him off, and the second was to allow me to focus energy through the ring on my hand, and levitate the can of Coke into the air in front of his face. He stared at it, wide-eyed.

I grinned, and said "And in case you think this is a parlor trick, well..."

Hector jumped back with a little yelp as I telekinetically crushed the can in front of him.

"Wow," he said, wide-eyed. "That's amazing and scary."

"Yup," I said, letting the can drop. "That's magic, in a nutshell. What else do ya' wanna know?"

Hector thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Uh, okay. What was up with that guy that you fried? Or would knowing that get me killed too?"

"Nah, yer good. That bugger was a White Court vampire."

"A vampire? Where was the fangs and... stuff?"

"Heh, you're thinkin' of the Red Court, mate. White Court are different."

"Different how?"

"Well, here's the fing': every human's got a soul, yeah? Well, without that, yer' just an empty husk. Yer' still alive, but there's nothin' upstairs. With me so far?"  
"I think so," said Hector.

"Right. So I'll put it bluntly: instead a' drinking yer' blood, White Court'll fuck yer' brains out."

"Um." Hector blinked a couple of times, and coughed into his hand, blushing a little. "That... doesn't sound so bad?"

"It's not." I said quietly. "Not at first. But... they have this... ability. To make you want it. To make you want them. And you come back for more because you don't want to say 'no', and then after a little bit, you can't say 'no'. And that's when they have you." My voice became a growl, and the lights began to flicker. "And they take yer' soul, little by little. And they take and take and take until yer' an empty fuckin' shell."

One of the lights in the room blew out in a shower of sparks. Hector yelped and started, almost falling over.

"Believe me," I said quietly, "I know." I took a couple of deep breaths, and the lights stopped flickering. "Sorry bout yer' lights, I... ain't the biggest fan of the White Court."

"That was you?" asked Hector disbelieving, looking up at the blown-out light.

"Yeah. Magic and technology don't get on too well."

"Ah." he said.

"Anythin' else?"

"Um... yes, I think. What happened at the Rusty Screw?"

"That", I said with a frown, "is a bloody good question, actually. As near as I can tell without anythin' else ta' go on, seemed like the set-up for some sorta summoning. Remember the bartender's corpse?"

"Ugh, yes." said Hector, his face twisting with nausea. "I had nightmares about it all last night."

"Yeah, nasty stuff. Powerful stuff too. Unfortunately, there's a lotta' power to be had from pain and misery. Whoever Mr. Shadow was for sure knew that, which is why he ripped the poor bugger into shreds."

Hector shuddered. "That's awful. But you mentioned a summoning. Is that what that thing was?"

"If you mean the thing that flew outta' the explodin' pub, then yeah. You didn't happen to get a look at it, did'ja?"

Hector shook his head. "It was moving too fast."

"Thought so. Ah well." I sighed. "I prolly need ta' track down the bastard and kill it."

"What? Why?" said Hector.

"It was strong enough to blow up a pub, just by comin' through a summoning circle. Sides', it was summoned by a ritual involvin' slicin' somebodies chest open. You really think whatever comes from that is gonna go round' giving flowers to everybody? Plus, it's my job to track down nasties."

"Your job? I thought you were a police officer?" Asked Hector. He seemed to think about his question for a second, and then said "actually, you're probably not a police officer, now that I'm thinking about it."

"Sure I am," I said, grinning. "I just police a different crowd. See, a summoning like that is dark magic, and that is about as illegal as anythin' could be."

Hector seemed to consider that. "Okay, I can see that." he said. "How are you going to track down that shadow guy?"

"Workin' on that. Actually..." I frowned. "If that's all tha' question you got right now, I need ta' get on that. I got a meeting ta' go to."

"Yeah, that's all for now," said Hector. "I... need to think about all this. Process it, and stuff."

"Sure. Alright then, I'm off."

Off to meet a spirit of intellect who was probably very old and extremely powerful.

And worst of all: he knew who I was.


	4. Chapter 3

As I walked down Little Turnstile, I checked around me constantly, extending my supernatural senses as far as they could reach. Now that I was sober (if hung over), I could sense the subtle power underneath the town. A current of energy ran underneath the pavement, exuding a quiet presence. It wasn't evil or sinister, but it was alien. This town was more than it seemed at first glance.

I reached 33 Little Turnstile, and moved on to the next house, 35 Little Turnstile.

Wait, what?

I backed up, and checked the houses again. 33, 35. That wasn't right.

I had a suspicion about what was happening here. I took the letter out of my pocket, and focused my attention on the rune inscribed upon it. Keeping the rune's shape and size firmly in my minds eye, I looked up.

34 Little Turnstile came into view, looking identical to the other houses around it. Strange. I guess the Corincanth, whatever it was, liked its privacy.

_Well,_ I thought, _no use wasting time_. I walked up and knocked on the door.

"Please come in," said a voice. At first I thought it was coming from a speaker mounted to the front of the house or something, but then I realized it was simply emanating from thin air. Keeping my gun within easy reach, I opened the door and entered.

The house was in a miserable state of disrepair. The wooden floorboards had begun to splinter, and wallpaper was peeling off the walls. I saw a couple of roaches skitter across the floor. Eww. One skittered near me, and I squished it without thinking about it too much.

"Please do not do that," said a voice from further in the house, "it is somewhat painful."

I had a feeling that whatever the Coricanth was, it was extremely disgusting. As I walked down the hall and into a living room, I was soon proven right.

The room was empty save for a single high-backed chair, in which a woman sat, hands on her knees. She was average in every way: average height, average build, black hair, brown eyes. What was not average was the roaches. They were everywhere in the room, there must have been thousands of them. They were crawling on the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and on the woman. They were crawling _inside_ her as well, roaches were freely skittering into her ears, nostrils, and her open mouth. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen.

"Ah," I said, "uh. Er, mmn. Guh." not the most eloquent sentence I've ever constructed, but my speech centers were being overwhelmed by sheer revulsion.

"Hello." said the woman calmly.

I got my mouth working, finally. "Hi." I said lamely. "So, uh, you're the Coricanth, then?"

"I am glad your ocular facilities are functional, locating my domicile would have been quite difficult otherwise." The movement of her mouth was wrong, somehow - the motion didn't quite match up with the sound.

"Yeah, it would have. I, er, assume you did the glyph thing so that normals couldn't find their way in 'ere?"

She nodded, the motion robotically smooth. I realized that she wasn't moving at all; she wasn't blinking, and wasn't even breathing. "Correct," she said, her mouth still not quite syncing up with the word. "I would presume you noticed I was deliberately unclear, when it comes to informing you how to enter my domicile?"

"I did notice. Couldn't you a' just said 'look at this 'ere glyph, I 'ave a magic invisible house'?"

"No. The glyph was a exceedingly basic test of your intelligence. A test you passed three and a half seconds earlier than I estimated you would, in fact. Congratulations."

"Thanks." I said. I was watching her left eye in horrified fascination - it had started to wriggle.

"I assume you sought me out seeking answers? All my information points to the likelihood that you are ignorant of the current situation."

"Yer' right, I have no ruddy idea what's going on. Um, your eye..."

"My eye?" she asked. The eye in question fell out of its socket and landed on her lap, where it began to melt. A horde of roaches crawled out of the socket it had just vacated. "Oh," she said. "My apologies, this body can be difficult to maintain sometimes."

"That's alright" I said blankly. "Um, where is yer' bathroom? I, uh..."

"Down the hall, first door on the right." she said promptly, gesturing with her hand. A couple of roaches fell off with the movement.

"Thanks", I mumbled, and ran for the bathroom. I reached it and was violently ill in the decaying toilet. Whatever I had been expecting, it hadn't been this.

When I had finished vomited and cleaning up (the sink worked, thank god), I returned to the roach-covered room.

"I regret that the degradation of this physical form disturbed you," she said, as though she were discussing the weather, "my true physical form can be difficult to contain within a construct such as this." She waved her hands, indicating the whole of her body.

"Don't sweat it," I said, feeling queasy. "Water under the bridge, and all that." I attempted to collect myself and keep in mind why I had sought out this creature in the first place. "So," I said, "I need to know about the summoning that happened yesterday."

"Ah yes," she (it?) said, "you have witnessed firsthand the work of Lazarus."

"The work a' who, now?"

"Lazarus." Replied the Coricanth, and slowly ran a finger down her temple before continuing. "The practitioner of questionable morality."

"Right," I said. "Him. Who the hell was he?"

"Unfortunately, I am not aware of his specific identity. However, he has made several recorded appearances in multiple countries before. China, India, Canada, and the US, for example. He has performed several rituals and committed multiple murders across the world. Although his motives and goal are unclear, they are unlikely to be beneficial to the whole of humanity."

I blinked. That was a lot more information than I had been expecting. Things like that almost always came at a price in the supernatural community, and a gift of information with seemingly no strings attached is a rarity.

I considered my reply. "This... isn't a typical town, is it?" I asked, somewhat rhetorically. "I felt it on the way here."

The Coricanth nodded. "You are correct. This town attracts a variety of preternatural attention." she paused. "I will present an interesting fact for you: although they are unaware of it, the population of baseline humans present in Vigor springs only takes up an estimated half of the population. The other half are practitioners, shapeshifters, vampires, werewolves, and many other types of transcendental creatures."

"Bloody hell," I said quietly. "How come this place isn't a warzone? And how haven't I haven't heard of this before?"

"Most curiously, I am unable to answer that question. An appreciable percentage of my continued presence here is due to the process of obtaining that information. So far, I have been unsuccessful." The Coricanth looked at me shrewdly, and said "and to assuage your curiosity, that is why I am freely offering information to you: I believe you may be of assistance in solving this perplexing conundrum."

That made sense. So far, I was getting the impression that the Coricanth was created to amass all possible knowledge to horde for when its master needed it. When its master died, it most likely went searching the earth, looking for things to learn.

"Right. So 'ere's the million-dollar question: what the bloody hell did Mr. Shadow summon?"

"As it has only recently entered this dimension, I am unable to provide specific details. However, based on its pattern of movement, I have gleaned two pieces of relevant information. Number one: the summoned creature is an Elemental."

Huh. That was strange. I assumed Mr. Shadow had summoned a demon or something from the Nevernever with the explicit purpose of serving him. You can't do that with Elementals, though. Elementals represent a specific aspect of existence- Earth, Air, Fire and Water for instance. There are even more esoteric Elementals, creatures that represent love and hope... and fear, pain and death. Judging from the torment inflicted on the barkeep, I was guessing whatever this particular Elemental represented was one of those last few.

"And what's fact two?" I asked.

"The Elemental's current location."

I narrowed my eyes at that, and said "and now this is where ya' ask me for somethin' right?"

The Coricanth nodded, a slight smile on her face. "You are correct. If you agree to take a certain object with you when you confront the creature, I will share its current whereabouts."

"An' what would this particular object be, then?"

The Coricanth waved her hand lazily in response and small stone made its way towards me on a parade float made of roaches. The roaches dropped it on the ground, and after some squicked-out indecision from me, I picked it up and examined it. It was a blue-tinted stone the size of my thumb, with the symbol of the Coricanth engraved upon it.

"What is it?" I said, turning it over in my hand to inspect it.

"The easiest way of explaining its function would be to compare it to the mortal invention known as the video recorder. Are you familiar with the concept?"

"I 'ave a good enough idea." I answered. Unlike many of my fellow wizards, I like to keep up with the advancements of mortal technology. Just because computers explode when I go near them shouldn't stop me from knowing how they work. "Alright," I said. "I'll take it, but I want your word its not gonna explode in my face or somethin'."

""Your sentiment is understandable." replied the Coricanth. "Very well, you have my word that my sigil stone will not harm you in any way, or bring any harm to anyone you may be protecting."

"Good enough for me." I said. And it was. In the magical word, oaths and promises are things of real power, and breaking one could have catastrophic results for whoever broke their word. And I guessed that for things like the Coricanth, who I presumed used magic to keep itself together, oaths were of even greater import.

"Excellent. The Elemental is currently headed to a house a mile from here, outside the city limits. I will provide-" she waved her hand, and along with a small flutter of power, a tiny mote of blue light appeared and began to hover out of the house. "the Elemental will arrive at the house in an estimated four minutes, so I would recommend haste. Oh yes, and the house is occupied."

"Oh shit. Alright, thanks for the info." I turned to leave.

"Of course. And although I personally do not believe in such a thing... good luck."

As I sprinted out the door, I reflected that I was probably going to need it.


	5. Chapter 4

The lights were out in the farmhouse.

The owners had clearly done well for themselves, because the house was this huge, ornate Victorian-styled thing. It looked like something out of a bloody comic book, not like a house that had any right to exist in reality. The lights were all off in the house, and the harsh angles off the architecture made the front step look like a gaping maw, fit to swallow me whole. I slowly approached the house, my pistol held in front of me and ready to fire .

I had come armed for bear. Not only did I have my rune-inscribed Colt (which I had christened Beauty), I had also brought a lovely little contraption called The Beast. The Beast was an enormous lever-action darling I had built and enchanted myself. Normally magic makes technology malfunction. However, when it comes to the contraptions I build, it only makes them work _better_. I had also brought my shield bands and my manipulation ring, along with my various array of magic weapons - three disposable shock rods, enchanted throwing daggers, flame runes, and of course, a pair of regular old flashbangs. I even had a little holdout pistol strapped to my calf, just in case.

I was ready for anything. At least, I hoped so.

I cautiously approached the front door of the farmhouse. My level of alertness notched even higher as I noticed that the door had been smashed inwards. I briefly considered creating light, but decided against it; stealth was the way to go right now.

I entered what looked like a foyer, it was hard to tell, but I thought I made out a staircase. I heard a faint tapping noise coming from my left. I looked, and saw another destroyed door leading to a completely dark room. I thought I saw a faint red illumination, but I couldn't be sure.

As I quietly approached, I became increasingly convinced that there was a glow coming from the room. I sidled up to the doorframe, my back against the wall, and slowly leaned around to look in the room.

I absorbed the details of the grisly tableau inside in a single, horrified instant. The farmer and his wife had been middle-aged, probably in their 50's or 60's. They would never get any older. They were both pinned to the wall with what looked like tent stakes, their arms and legs forming X's. They had both been split open like the lid of a cardboard box, and their guts had been spilled all across the floor in ghoulish streaks. Their faces were both contorted in fear and agony. The stench was unbelievable. I was too late.

As a Warden, I'd seen plenty of terrible things. Murders that would horrify the most experienced medical examiner. Acts of supreme cruelty that would turn the stomach of the evilest torturer, and pain wrought upon the most undeserving of victims for the sake of power.

I had gotten used to it.

I walked into the room, a grim expression set on my face. The source of the red light was buried underneath a curtain, fallen or perhaps pulled from a window in front of me. I cautiously approached the light, my gun trained on it. There seemed to be form of some sort underneath the blanket. Cautiously, I poked it with my foot. It didn't move. Slowly, very slowly, I reached down and grabbed the edge of the blanket. Then, in one swift movement, I drew back and rapidly pulled the blanket off the form, training my gun on it.

It was a rolled up carpet, with a red-filtered lamp sitting on top of it.

I've been a Warden for a while, and had been in enough ambushes to get a sense of when to expect the knife in the back. So when my instincts screamed that there was something behind me, I was already whirling around and triggering one of my shield bracers. It saved my life.

The runes on the bracer flared to life as claws the length of my bloody arm raked across the shield, sending up blue sparks. I felt the bracer heat up and shake, as the magic I had infused it with was converted into claw-stopping force.

"Bloody hell!" I shouted, jumping back and almost tripping over the carpet behind me. I constructed all of my foci so that they store magical power, and the bracer was full to the top with energy. When it ran out, I would have to use my own energy to power it. But until then, I was good.

The first impression got of the elemental was red. It was constructed partially out of glowing crimson light that vaguely comprised the shape of a humanoid body. It was massive, easily seven feet tall. The second impression I got was "ewww", because what wasn't made out of light was made of raw, pulsating muscle tissue and bone. Its hands ended in spurs of bones that formed wicked-looking claws, one of which was headed towards my chest at rapid velocity. I raised my shield bracer, and pumped a tiny trickle of power into the bracer to turn it on. The bracer ran off stored energy, and I hadn't used it much recently, so it had plenty of juice left. The runes on the bracer flared to life as the Elemental's claws raked across the shield, making an electronic-sounding whining noise and throwing up red and blue sparks.

I raised my pistol. The arsehole had taken a shot and me, and failed. It was MY turn.

"_Presión!_", I yelled, and pulled the trigger on Beauty. Her runes flared to life, and there was a loud crunch a the bullet hit, and the force from the bullet was magically multiplied by several magnitudes and spread out amongst a larger area. The net effect was as though the Elemental had been hit with a baseball bat swung by a giant. The Elemental was sent flying through the far wall with a shower of shattering wood, and continued its trip into the main hall. I sagged at the effort the spell had taken, I hadn't meant to hit it quite that hard.

"Tha's... tha's right," I said, trying to catch my breath. "'ow do you like that, 'ye murderin' cunt?"

Apparently the Elemental didn't like it at all, because its response was to shriek at ear-splitting volume and charge at me through the hole it had made in the wall, far faster than anything that big had any right to move. I barely raised my shield in time to block it. The was an explosion of light and sound, and the runes on my bracer brightened to eye-searing levels as it struggled to maintain the shield.

The Elemental's attack wasn't purely physical though, and a bit of the red light leaked through the shield and touched my arm.

My entire world went red, and my arm was engulfed in pain unlike anything I had ever felt before. I can't even properly describe the sensation, because I don't think there are words that would do it justice. It felt like my arm was being set on fire, flash frozen, electrocuted, and crushed, all at the same time. And all of those things have happened to me at some point or another. I vaguely remember myself screaming and recoiling in nightmarish agony, and a bright flash as the Elemental hit the shield a final time. Through the haze of sparks and pain, I saw the Elemental's claw flying at me in a downward slash, meant to bisect me. Time seemed to freeze.

Everybody has ways of dealing with fear. Some don't, at let their fear control them. Some embrace it, and turn it into motivation to push through whatever is making them afraid. My way is a bit different: I get angry.

I get _really_ angry.

As the claw sailed towards me, I drew power into myself. I drew power from the well of energy inside me, from my bitterness, my anger and my fear, and flung it into the world with a single word.

_"VIDA!"_

A massive beam of pure white light shot from Beauty, straight into the chest of the Elemental. It was launched diagonally upward. It didn't just go through a wall, it went through the wall, the ceiling, then through the ceiling above, and with a almighty crunching noise, went straight through the attic and was propelled around a hundred feet into the air, where it exploded.

"Well," I said, as bits of the Elemental as well as debris from the house rained down around me, "that's that sorted."

Then a piece of debris hit me and knocked me out.


End file.
